


Why do Wolves Cry?

by YunaBlaze



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Curses, Emotional Baggage, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21844462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YunaBlaze/pseuds/YunaBlaze
Summary: Regis had left Toussaint in regret for everything that had happened and that he failed to prevent. For months, he tried to push away the dark thoughts and guilt were feasting upon his consciousness as he stood guard over Dettlaff's resting place. He was almost prepared to suffer through this solitude for however long it would take for Dettlaff to heal.Until a wolf came and changed everything once more...
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Why do Wolves Cry?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mk_tortie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_tortie/gifts).



> This is officially my first attempt at Witcher fanfic. I hope I manage to capture the individuality of each character and make this story an enjoyable one.

Vampires were both extreme and contradicting creatures. At times, they required desperately company, much as a distressed child seeking safety in their family to soothe away their fear. Other times, they would seek out the most secluded and isolated location they could find or dig out, burying themselves deep in the darkness to rest and forget. To one Higher Vampire named Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, he leaned closer to the former than the latter. Therefore, loneliness was devouring him from inside out as he stared at the bonfire before him, recalling the events that led to his current state of solitude.

Beauclair, Geralt, deaths and conspiracies. So many unpleasant things had happened and so little goods to be found. Despite the fact that both his friend and blood brother were safe and sound, the events still left a sour note on his tongue. After all, Dettlaff had retreated into the wild, isolating himself from all possible human interactions and clamming shut from their bond as he rested deep within the earth. The cruelty of one selfish and vengeful woman had shattered whatever progress Dettlaff had made in interacting with humans and had broken his heart as much as his spirit that he sought to sleep through the ages to recover from this ordeal.

Geralt had also suffered a great injustice in this matter. Being branded as a criminal and chained like a dog for delivering Syanna to Dettlaff, indirectly saving a burning city that was being ravaged by vampires. He was thrown into prison, waiting to be executed or worse if Regis hadn’t manage to get Dandelion to Beauclair to appease Anna-Henrietta and convince her to release the Witcher. Even now, despite having seen his old friend returned safely to his new home at Corvo Bianco, Regis still feared that the Duchess might seek retribution upon the Witcher, for the final blow they brought down upon her. The fact that Syanna had sought to murder her as the final victim of the Beast of Beauclair. It was both a conspiracy to reclaim her birthright and a revenge against those who had wronged her. The Higher Vampire sighed as he recalled the devastated look on her face, crushing her grief-stricken heart further with the truth and evidences.

Now, Regis sat in this cave located deep within the Blue Mountains, guarding his blood brother who laid buried deep within the earth. Dettlaff refused to discuss what had happened with him and simply pleaded him to leave him to his sleep, which Regis reluctantly granted, choosing instead to stand guard over his friend’s resting place. His pack mate’s presence might be close, but it did not appease him at all and only made the loneliness in him grew, gnarling his insides and reminding him horribly of the days of utter nothingness.

Since his brush with “death” itself, Regis found that he had some... lingering issues from the experience. He could not fully return to the old days of treating companionship like a flower, having it would be pleasant for him and losing it wouldn’t mean utter starvation. The dark and the cold reminded him all too much of his previously incapacitated state, so light and warmth became more a necessity for his mental state. He glanced at the night sky outside, staring at the moon with longing gaze as he recalled the last evening he had spent with Geralt. Truly, he was happy that the Witcher finally found a place he could call home, the desire for peace and quiet was quite apparent in the golden eyes of his old friend as they shared a final drink before his departure. A faint smile stretched on his lips as he imagined his friend working in the field like a modest vineyard owner. At least there was one good ending out of this tragic story.

The Higher Vampire would never regret to his choice to help the Witcher. Geralt of Rivia was certainly one of the rarest treasures that could be found in humanity. Regis sighed as he turned his gaze back on the dwindling flame, prompting him to feed it with some more dry wood. How he wished his friend was here and they could share more stories and drinks over the fire.

A faint and familiar scent tickled the vampire’s nose, though Regis instantly shook his head as he immediately recognized it as that of Geralt’s. No. That would be impossible. His friend wouldn’t suddenly come back to the North and certainly not to this remote mountain side, where civilization was at least hundred miles away. He would have brushed it off as nostalgia striking him if he didn’t catch the scent again, drifting closer as well.

Curious, Regis stood up and left the cave, studying his surrounding in search of the familiar form of his old friend. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, there were just tall trees, dark ice-coated rocks and freshly fallen snow, then he noticed something white shifting out of the corner of his vision. Dark eyes turned to focus on the movement and blinked in slight surprise at what he spotted behind some rocks, white fur with caked dried blood. He made his way towards it, a sense of unease filled him as Geralt’s scent grew stronger as he approached whatever creature laid hidden behind the stone. An irrational part of him feared that he might find the corpse of the Witcher being devoured by the creature, though he quickly stomped that thought away, refusing to give in to his fear’s irrationality.

What the Higher Vampire found was just a white fur wolf, one whose size was three times larger than the usual beast, covered in old scars and fresh wounds, though no human body was found near it and yet the Witcher’s scent remained strong in the air. The golden eyes of the beast locked onto his, growling threateningly as it bared its bloody teeth at him.

At first, Regis was confused by the lingering scent of his human friend before his eyes widened in horrible realization when he noticed some rather familiar scars over the wolf’s face: a small diagonal scar above the right eyebrow and a large semi-circular running from the left side of its forehead down to its cheek.

‘Geralt?’ Regis whispered his friend’s name in surprise.

At first, the beast didn’t seem to show any sign of recognition and only growled more threateningly despite the many injuries he had obviously sustained before reaching this place. Then a hint of sanity seemed to return in those golden eyes and the wildness in them soon bled away as the wolf whined softly in recognition.

‘What happened to you, Geralt?’ Regis asked out loud as he approached his beastly friend, hands only hovering over the furry body, wary of the possible injuries hidden underneath the thick and dirty fur.

The Higher Vampire never got his answer, for Geralt had fallen unconscious. It was apparent that the wolf had been fighting off his fatigue and injuries. Nonetheless, the idea that the Witcher was cursed and hunted from the warm southern countryside all the way to the cold northern mountains made Regis’ teeth ached. As gently as he could, Regis carried his friend back to the cave.

***

Getting the whole story out of Geralt was a bit of a challenge for Regis than he initially expected, seeing the Witcher would sometimes attempt to utter a human syllable in between his beastly speech. The language of the beast was simpler and more basic unlike most sentient beings’ languages, for beasts did not require poetic or complex words. In a way, it was like trying to solve a puzzle that had mismatched pieces stuck together. Still, the more information Geralt could provide then they would have a clearer picture of the whole incident that lead to his friend’s current cursed state.

‘In short, you have no idea who or how you got cursed, you’ve only woke up in Corvo Bianco in your current state,’ Regis summarized, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘Yet, the moment you stepped out of your room, knights were already in your home and they just attacked you on your sight.’

The wolf nodded in response before he went back to devour the roasted deer meat the vampire had cooked for him. It was obvious to Regis that his friend hadn’t been really eating properly in his journey, for hidden underneath the thick fur was a gaunt body that had been starved for days, wounds made from human tools and traps to claws and teeth of monsters. Regis suspected that Geralt, who had been running mostly on instinct since his escape from Corvo Bianco, sought to return to Kaer Morhen, the only other place he had ever considered as his home and a location he associated safety with. Not to mention the possibility he might find his fellow Witchers.

Sadly, after he had tended to his friend’s wounds, Regis had went to check the old fortress and had found not a single soul in sight. No help could be found in Kaer Morhen.

The vampire was considering heading back south with Geralt. Unless they figured how the Witcher came to be cursed, it would be a waste of time to search for friends and allies. Still, the idea that knights were already on the premise when Geralt was cursed into this beastly form seemed too much of a big coincidence. It made Regis believed that whoever was behind his friend’s transformation, they might have intentionally alerted the guards and had them sent there to eliminate him. After all, slaying a giant wolf? There was more than one or two fairy tales with that plot in Toussaint and foolish knights would definitely try to become said beast slayer for the glory of it.

Another thing that worried Regis was if the curse was going to affect his friend further. He got the feeling that at times, Geralt would growl at him threateningly like a wild wolf did when faced with a dangerous predator, or he would pounce on whatever animal he brought back with him, devouring them without a care to the furry skin and the rawness of the meat. The idea that his friend was slowly losing his human self within the shell of an animal was not a pleasant thought. To see a good man losing his humanity little by little until he was reduced to nothing but a wild beast that needed to put down...

The Higher Vampire lightly shook his head to rid of such morbid thoughts. No, he would not allow himself to give up so easily and lose to pessimism without an effort. He didn’t when he had to chase after Dettlaff in his recovering state, nor did he when he had to helpless watch the Witcher being thrown into jail for sparing his blood brother. The answers behind this curse could only be found in Toussaint. For now, he should just focus on making sure he and Geralt managed to reach the Angren region safely. No doubt Geralt’s escape to the north must have sowed quite a few rumours and ignited some fears along the way.

Regis turned to Dettlaff’s current resting place, placing his hand over the smooth dirt. Their bond might be closed, though he no longer sensed a hint of distress from the other end. While the quietness was disconcerting, it also meant that his blood brother was resting peacefully in a manner of speaking.

‘I’ll be back soon,’ Regis promised softly before he stood up, gripping the strap of his satchel in determination. He might not be able to lighten the burden Dettlaff carried, but if Geralt needed his help, he would do everything he could to aid him. He did not wish to remain trapped in this sense of helplessness.

***

The journey southward was certainly more eventful than Regis would have liked. From protecting and hiding Geralt’s giant body from hunters and monsters alike to preventing the cursed man from running wild and stealing fowls from innocent farmers. The journey was definitely anything but boring, though it was nonetheless worrisome as the Witcher acted more beastlike with each passing day. What was more painful to endure was watching those golden eyes widening in horror whenever some amount of sanity was restored, the terrible realization that they were slowly losing their battle against the curse. The Higher Vampire did his best to comfort his friend whenever they decided to stop to rest up. At least being stuck in the mindset of a wolf meant a full stomach and gentle petting easily satisfied him. It was a miracle that Geralt wasn’t acting too feral despite the effect of the curse.

Regis breathed out a sigh in relief when his dark eyes spotted the spire of the Beauclair Palace in the distance, though his relief was short lived when he spotted a group of knights down the road. Unlike the last time he was here, the guards were well-equipped than usual, heavier armour and armed almost to the teeth, though their armour didn’t hide the slouch of their posture, they were all tired and weary. Curious, seeing after the vampire hoard attack, Beauclair had certainly double the amount of guards and patrols ran tighter than before, though none of the men were this exhausted. Did something else occur after Geralt’s escape? The vampire quickly pushed the questioning thought away.

It took a bit of manhandling to get Geralt away from the road, but stealth was of the utmost importance at the moment. A giant white wolf was already hard enough to hide this down south! An uncooperative one was even worse! Thankfully, night was fast approaching, so they just needed to avoid the main roads and stick to the forest until they reach Corvo Bianco. Regis hoped that someone might be able to provide him with more clues and maybe a safe place to hide Geralt in the meantime. Hopefully Barnabas-Basil was still the majordomo of Corvo Bianco and would be willing to keep Geralt’s cursed state a secret from everyone else.

‘No need to act so grumpy here, my friend,’ Regis said as he and his wolf companion as they walked through thick forest and rocky hills, avoiding the roads and grassy plains as much as possible. No doubt his friend’s limbs were probably protesting from traversing rough terrains for days.

The beast huffed in displeasure as they continued onward. The Higher Vampire chuckled lightly as he gave his friend a gentle pat on his head, looking up just in time to see some signs of life up ahead. There, in a short distance away, laid Corvo Bianco. The vineyard looked a horribly empty without any worker tending the fields and the servant quarters remained lightless in this dark night. Regis gripped his strap lightly as they carefully approached the estate, the only building that still had some lanterns lit by the door.

‘Stay here,’ Regis said softly to the wolf who whined in displeasure. ‘You’ll attract too much attention Geralt. Not to mention, you can’t knock to save yourself.’

That comment earned him an indignant growl from the beast, though it lightened the fear Regis had been carrying since the start of this journey. He was afraid that at any given moment, he would lose the Witcher to the curse and might be forced to end his life to stop him from hurting others. While a part of him was prepared to do what was necessary to prevent someone he held very dear from becoming a monster, the prospect that he might have to be the one to put an end to his friend crushed him inside out. This sort of dilemma reminded him too much of the choice he was committed to a few months ago. Standing by Geralt’s side should Dettlaff refused to see reasons. Fate seemed to enjoy toying with him, forcing him into situations where he had to choose saving a friend’s life or their soul.

No. He mustn’t give in to this fear yet. It would be alright, they would figure out this curse and put an end to it, then Geralt could return to his peaceful life and everything would be well once more.

As he raised his hand to knock on the door, the door itself was flung opened and stood there in shock as he stared at the individual behind the door. Ashen hair and bright green eyes were the first thing he noticed, not to mention how strikingly familiar they were despite having seen them only once.

‘Cirilla?’ Regis murmured in surprise, not expecting Geralt’s charge to here. Didn’t Geralt say that she had given up the Path to help people as the Empress of Nilfgaard? What was she doing here in Toussaint?

The young woman was wary at first, though her eyes soon widened in recognition as she whispered, ‘You’re... the vampire... Regis, right?’

‘Yes, milady,’ Regis replied politely. Best be courteous to Ciri, seeing there were a few unusual heartbeats around the household. Possibly spies sent by the Emperor himself to keep an eye on his successor.

‘If you are here to see my fa–I mean Geralt, he’s not here,’ Ciri quickly said as she ran her fingers through her dishevelled hair, drawing attention to her overall tired appearance. Her baggy eyes and sunken cheeks spoke of little rest. Did she came here after hearing what had happened to her surrogate father?

‘I am here because of Geralt,’ the vampire said and quickly held his hand up to stop her from interrupting him. ‘He is fine, Cirilla. But he needs help, especially those with magical knowledge.’

‘So... he is alive...’ the young woman whispered in relief.

‘Yes, just being a grumpy old wolf. Literally. Nevertheless, the curse on him IS growing stronger,’ Regis said with a grim expression. ‘If we do not hurry, we might lose him to this curse for good. As pleasant as it is to tease him being an actual wolf, I do prefer the brash eloquence he had when he was human.’

‘What is–’

A loud howl interrupted Ciri as both human and vampire turned their gaze to where the sound came from, though soon, other noises reached their ears. The sounds of fighting and cries in terror.

No! Regis instantly turned to mist, rushing to the spot where he had left Geralt. What he found was his friend fighting off knights. No, not fighting... The eyes on his friend were not that of someone fighting to defend themselves. They belonged to a wild beast staring down at preys... Some of the injured soldiers were trying to crawl away from the giant wolf while others continued to attack the beast with their weapon.

‘GERALT!’

Regis turned to see Ciri running towards them, eyes wide in panic and worry.

‘CIRILLA! STAY BACK!’ Regis shouted in warning. Geralt would never forgive himself if he hurt his daughter.

The white wolf turned his gaze towards the woman, though no sign of recognition could be found in them. Instead, the eyes were drown in a seemingly insatiable bloodlust and they were locked on the ashen gray-haired woman.

Everything happened too fast. The wolf pounced. The woman cried out in desperation. Blood painted the air...

***

The halls of Beauclair Palace laid empty and quiet. No guards were patrolling its halls and standing guard in rooms, no servants staying up late for some menial tasks or even keeping the candles lit for the night. The palace felt almost abandoned.

There was only one soul who remained awake in the darkness.

Anna Henrietta, the Duchess of Toussaint, sat in the old playroom, swirling the wine within her goblet absentmindedly, a fairy tale book laid open on her lap. She remained garbed in a black dress, her crown had long been set aside as she let herself be drawn into nostalgia in this room that held many fond memories of her childhood and that of her beloved sister.

‘Your grace,’ a quiet voice called out from the darkness.

The blonde lifted her head slightly in surprise, though she soon shook her head in disregard as she ordered, ‘Leave vampire. I have no interest in entertaining anyone tonight.’

‘I’m afraid neither am I.’ Regis stepped into the light the lantern set on the small table provided. Gone was the face of a kind and patient gentleman, there was only tiredness and anger on the Higher Vampire’s face.

Anarietta scoffed at that as she took a sip of her Sangreal, displaying no fear towards the vampire’s presence before she set her goblet aside.

‘Why?’ Regis demanded, gripping the strap of his satchel tightly as an act of restraint.

Blue eyes looked up at his question. A spark of realization before sadistic satisfaction brightened them. A pleased smirk graced her lips before she asked, ‘How is the Witcher?’

A clawed hand was wrapped around her frail neck at her question.

‘I will not ask again, Anna Henrietta,’ Regis warned her in a growl, veins pulsing along his face as he held back the urge to morph into his primal form.

The Duchess just laughed madly, testing the vampire’s patience greatly.

‘Ah... How sad that I couldn’t see what happened. I would love to see the Witcher’s face now,’ the blonde said with a tilt of her head.

‘You cursed him,’ Regis stated. He knew there was a chance that the Duchess was behind the curse, but he did not think someone of her stature would resort to curses, especially the one that had been inflicted upon Geralt, which was as powerful as it was ancient. ‘Why?’

A smirk remained Anna Henrietta as she replied, ‘May you forever be cloaked in the skin of a wolf; May you suffered the fate of being hunted for eternity; May you lose your sanity little by little in the wild; Until you devour the heart of the one you hold dearest.’

Regis’ hand shook at her words. ‘So... you curse him with two fates: being hunted by those he had sought to protect until he dies or murder the person he loves and spend the rest of his life in guilt. None of which he deserves.’

‘An eye for an eye, vampire,’ Anna Henrietta spat out.

‘Then you’ve allowed yourself to be blinded by your misguided hatred,’ Regis retorted, tightening his grip on the blonde’s throat lightly.

‘No. This is justice,’ the Duchess corrected him in a hiss. ‘He took Syanna’s life and chose to spare Dettlaff’s. Sparing a monster’s life when he should have ended him like any decent Witcher was supposed to do.’

Regis closed his eyes as he shook his head, slowly releasing his grip on the human’s neck. ‘No. That sin did not belong to Geralt.’

Anna Henrietta coughed softly as she rubbed her sore neck gently, glaring at the vampire who stood back and stared down at her with a sad gaze.

‘I asked Geralt to put his trust in me. To entrust Syanna’s safety to me when we faced Dettlaff. To believe that we could resolve everything without further bloodshed,’ Regis confessed softly. This regret would remain with him until the end of time. He had truly, and perhaps naively, believed that by letting Dettlaff meet Syanna, they could put an end to all the destruction and death without further sacrifice. Geralt trusted him and put his faith in him. Yet the Higher Vampire had failed him and had only brought tribulations upon his friend. ‘I was the one who had convinced Geralt to free Syanna from the Land of Thousand Fables and stood there when she was murdered at Tesham Mutna. If you have to seek retribution, it should be me, not the Witcher. Geralt had done everything within his power to protect Syanna and your people.’

‘Lies,’ Anna Henrietta hissed out, openly glaring at him as she stood up. ‘He dared sullied my sister name after her death, Syanna deserved more than being marked as a would-be usurper! Yet you two dared come forth and claimed that this whole Beast of Beauclair was a plot my own sister created to undermine my authority and to reclaim her birthright with my death! I will never believe these lies!’

Regis shook his head in dismay. He should have known there was a reason why she was related Fringilla Vigo. Both women were blind to their own misguided belief and were stubborn to boot.

The Higher Vampire sighed as he looked at the blond-haired woman in pity and said, ‘Believe what you wish, Anna Henrietta, but it will not change what Syanna had done or her fate... Now... You will have to face the consequence of your action.’

‘I am not afraid of you, vampire,’ the Duchess said challengingly, staring back at him fearlessly.

‘I am neither your judge nor executioner. _She_ is,’ Regis said as he took a step to the side.

Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon stepped forward with two cloaked guards, green eyes burning brightly as she looked down at the Duchess with a frown. ‘You have a lot to answer for Anna Henrietta.’

The Duchess stared at Ciri in shock, not expecting to see the future Empress of Nilgaard here, looking like she had a few minor scuffles before arriving. Her white shirt was dirty and slightly torn and her leather pants had dried blood on it. Ciri, nonetheless, stood imposing as she continued, ‘I have no interest in whatever excuse or hospitality you have to offer. You will remain within your chamber until I decide your fate. Get her out of my sight.’

The men immediately obeyed her and took Anna Henrietta by the arms, pulling her out of the room roughly, ignoring her complaints of their rudeness.

Ciri let out a tired sigh the moment the Duchess was gone as she muttered, ‘What a mess.’

‘Indeed,’ Regis agreed tiredly.

‘...Are you alright?’ the young woman asked softly.

‘I am... fine,’ the vampire replied with a small comforting smile, hoping it would put the lady at ease.

‘I guess there was a reason why Witchers refuse contracts that involve a Higher Vampire. You really are immortal,’ the ashen-haired woman remarked with a wry smile. ‘I don’t think a lot of creature out there would survive from getting their heart eaten up while they are still conscious.’

Regis grimaced slightly as he put his hand over his chest. The discomfort and phantom pain were small prices to pay, especially when it ended saving Geralt from his curse by pure chance. Not to mention... He managed to protect someone very dear to his friend this time. This was no redemption for him, though it did bring about some small comfort and made the guilt less heavy.

Still...

‘So... uh...’ Ciri glanced left and right, not fully looking at the Higher Vampire. ‘Did you and Geralt...’

‘No,’ Regis interjected firmly. ‘I do not believe the curse is that _literal_ in its meaning. Geralt and I are only friends.’

‘So it’s not referring to only someone they love? Like with all their heart type of love.’ The young woman looked at the Higher Vampire with a skeptical frown.

Regis shook his head as he reminded her, ‘ _The one you hold dearest_. Cirilla. The curse never said specifically it is a lover or someone of a familial love. I can only think of a few who Geralt would lay his life for and I am... honoured to be one of them.’

Ciri only let a skeptical hum at his explanation.

Regis wondered why young people these days could not believe that there were such things called brotherly love between two men and instantly jumped to the conclusion that they might be actual lovers.

His exasperation must be quite apparent on his face, seeing the young woman just shook her head lightly in exasperation before a genuine smile was back on her face as she said, ‘So, are you going to stay in Toussaint a little longer? I am sure Geralt would be happy if you stay, so that he could properly thank you later.’

Regis gave Ciri a small smile as he reluctantly declined, ‘As much as I wish to stay. I have another matter to attend to... Perhaps one day, I will come back to Toussaint for a more pleasant reason. Until then, please take care of Geralt in my stead, Cirilla.’

Ciri looked ready to argue, but once more, she just shook her head with a sigh before she said, ‘Alright, but you better come back or I will throw Geralt on you once he is back on his two feet. Assuming he didn’t already crawl out of bed looking for you.’

Regis chuckled lightly as he replied, ‘Well then, I suggest we both return to our charges. Tell Geralt that I am glad that he is safe now. And... I hope I have made some amends...’

‘Knowing my father, he’ll probably tell you that you have nothing to make amends for,’ Ciri said with certainty. ‘You can’t make Geralt do things he doesn’t want to do. He will never regret in putting his trust in you or helping you in your quest.’

Regis glanced down slightly at the comforting words. Yes, he knew very well that Geralt didn’t regret a thing, even on the night of Syanna’s murder, he stood by his choices and chose to face the consequences head on. He did not know what he had done to deserve such a loyal good friend.

‘I know and I am forever thankful for that,’ Regis whispered softly, staring back at Ciri with a smile once more. ‘Maybe with some luck, I’ll see him when summer comes around.’

‘You better or Geralt will find you and drag all the way back to Corvo Bianco,’ Ciri said, giggling at the mental image she had in mind.

‘Good night, Cirilla. And please tell Geralt to take care of himself,’ Regis said as he slowly let his body turned to mist. ‘Farewell.’

With that, the vampire fled from Toussaint once more. Unlike last time, he did not leave with a heavy heart filled with regret. No, this time, he carried a promise. A hopeful promise for a brighter future.


End file.
